Serenity
by DemonRyu
Summary: Faint scars against pale skin. These are the signs of control, in Squall's mind.


_I hurt myself today to see if I still feel_

Squall reached out to trace the curve of her smile, soft and gentle even beneath the glass. Brown eyes, so deep in hue it'd hurt to look into them. Another pair of brown eyes that had loved him then left. They always left. Perhaps because there was something in him that drove them away. He knew there had to be. They'd always look to him to lead, when many times; he'd wanted to follow. Sometimes they saw the blood in the morning after a restless night, but they never asked. All they knew were that his outer walls were as tough to break through as his inner ones.

The pale ghost in black leather. Ice Prince. Leonhartless.

He wore his names with Pride. The Pride of a Lion.

While inside, he was as lost as any lamb, looking for a shepherd. And he'd found her. But she'd left him. Soon enough, they all would.

Only in one way, had he ever found comfort. Had he felt that he'd truly had control.

After setting the photo down, he pulled open a drawer, reaching into the back to pull out a small, cherry coloured box. Nothing special, something to hold small jewellery in, a trinket or two. But inside this box, which had gone everywhere with Squall, was the object that allowed him control. 

He crossed the room to go back over to his bed, shrugging out of his jacket. It fell to the floor, forgotten as he perched on the edge, turning on his radio. Hurt had been the last song he'd been listening to, but as Trent Reznor's voice filled up the void in his room - he changed it. There was a soft whirr as the discs changed and he fast-forwarded through songs, waiting till a soft drumbeat started. Exotic and dreamy sounding, then Sully's voice began to filter through his speakers. He loved Sully's voice.

_"As I sit here and slowly close my eyes …I take another deep breath…."_

He did close his eyes for a moment, before opening the box, exhaling only when saw they were still there. Three razor blades flecked with rust coloured spots. Sometimes he'd clean them, sometimes he wouldn't. And he always had a fear they would be discovered. 

No one had ever seen the scars. Not even Rinoa. He'd made sure to dust his arms with powder anytime he was unable to wear his jacket. She'd never question, though he was certain she noticed. He was able to hide the deeper lines around his wrists with bracelets, but the ones higher, well. He carried a gunblade, did he not? Training accident, duelling nicks, cleaning scars.   
Lies. 

Squall lifted one of the blades carefully, admiring the soft sheen of the silver in his lamplight. Beautiful. 

And soon, he would be in control again. Drops of crimson gathering along the careful, soft lines he would curve into his arm. 

_"And feel the wind pass through my body …I'm the one in your soul…"_

He remembered, one night, Selphie had caught him wandering the halls of Balamb Garden. This was after Rinoa had fallen into her coma and he'd felt he was to blame. So, he'd been nursing a drink, hidden in another spot of the training centre. She'd been trailing him and he didn't know it, till he felt a pull on his jacket. He turned, looking into a pair of innocent eyes - even after all they'd done and seen.

"Squall. You know. If you ever need to talk, we're here to listen. All of us. Me, Zell, Irvy, Quisty. Don't bottle it up, 'kay? That's not healthy."

He'd just nodded, not knowing what to say, really. He couldn't dare tell her his problems, she was too happy for that. Same with Zell, not so much the happiness, but in his eyes, they were pure. Not tainted by the blood they'd spill. For he not only spilled other's blood, but his own. He was unclean; he was unworthy.

Quistis he'd shunned to often to dare speak to her. It wouldn't be right, after brushing her off with his indifference. Irvine… Irvine was still an unknown to him, but his violet gaze seemed to know more then he should. Squall was actually a bit afraid to go to him, afraid of what he knew and remembered that they didn't. That's what his eyes said.

The only person he'd been able to converse with was gone, stolen from him by a woman in a black gown. She'd returned to them, Matron, but Seifer hadn't, still lured by a Siren's voice. Seifer had known, somewhat, of how Squall kept his cool. But he'd never said a word, even as he'd carried him to the infirmary once. 

Then, he'd had something to live for. He didn't now. Would they miss him? Perhaps for a while. But they would move on with their lives and he would be a memory. Even though he'd protested when they'd spoken of Seifer as though he was dead. But he would be remembered for being a hero.

A Hero who killed himself after his Angel flew away. How wonderfully ironic. A tragic fairytale ending, much like Romeo and Juliet.

The beginning of the chorus had started and Squall looked up at his speakers, eyes unfocused and unguarded. He could almost imagine Sully felt the same as he did at some point in his life. Or at least, when writing this song.

_"I need Serenity…"_

He closed his eyes again, tip of the blade pressed against his skin. A lover's touch. His body swayed slightly to the drumbeat of the song, imagining himself… In a place he could hide. A soft hiss passed through his lips as the blade began to slice through his skin. The first time, it'd always sting.

The hiss became a soft sigh of pleasure as he opened his eyes, seeing what he'd hoped to see. A thin line of crimson, hugging the silver of the razor - so dark against his skin. He wished he could capture this moment, when the pain became something else. What was ugly became beautiful. So infatuated with the way it looked, he drew the line deeper.

This is what had Seifer carrying to him to the infirmary that one time. He'd become so lost in what he was doing to himself; he hadn't noticed where he had drawn his lines. If not for Seifer, he would have bled to death. Seifer explained he'd cut himself cleaning his Revolver. No one was the wiser and Squall felt that he'd always owed Seifer something for his lie. But the Blonde had never asked for payment … Which was what made it even harder when he looked into his eyes in the prison. And the cutting that had happened after the others had freed him. That's when they had seen the blood he'd spilled and hadn't meant to. But that time, it wasn't only for himself. It was also for the only one who'd understood him and like the others … Had left him.

Tonight. It was for Rinoa. It was for Squall. And the blade was pressed deeper still, Squall beyond the threshold of pain now, lost in memories and music. He didn't hear the knocking upon his dorm door.

Irvine waited, then knocked again. Perhaps he hadn't heard him the first time. He thought Squall was listening to music, but wasn't sure. At least, he should have received a go away by now. But nothing. Silence. It was unnerving. 

After waiting two minutes, he knocked again, louder. Squall's eyes slid to the door for a moment, but it seemed to take him so long to turn and focus on where the sound was coming from. He'd only noticed because it was not the drums of the song, too rapid and far away. So he ignored it, looking back down to his arm, which was now a pleasant red, fat droplets beading and falling to the once pristine blue coverlet he sat upon. 

… Was someone calling his name? 

"Squall. 'S not funny, open the door!"

Irvine knew his voice was rising and looked around the hallway before banging on the door again. Silence. With a sigh, he keyed in an override code Quistis had given him. 

"Seems you're the only who can reach him, Irvine. The rest of us, he ignores."

If Squall wasn't there and arrived while the cowboy snooped, he knew he'd be in some deep shit. Quisty owed him, big time, if that happened. He stepped into the living room, hearing the fading echoes of a Godsmack song and heading into the bedroom. And froze in the doorway. 

Squall was leaning against the wall, eyes half lidded, blood smeared over his shirt and upon his bedspread. The rise and fall of his chest was shallow and that drove Irvine in action, crossing the room in a stride and a half. He grabbed Squall's shoulders, causing the brunette's head to roll towards him.

"Fuck.. Squall. Open your eyes. Look at me. Look at me!"

Squall tried to focus, gaze landing first on peach lips moving to fast for him to read, only knowing that he was being spoken to because of the sound of Irvine's voice. Then he looked upward, catching deep concern in a twilight gaze. He'd never seen Irvine's eyes this close before and they were so dark... 

One hand reached up, Irvine glancing towards the left at the movement, eyes widening slightly at the razor Squall still held.

"Let me have that, Squall, alright? Then you can touch me if you want."

"…Pretty… Not like…"

His words were slurred, soft. Irvine had to strain to hear him and he gently eased the razor out of Squall's grip. Once it was gone, he placed Squall's hand on his shoulder, while dark lashes began to close again.

"No, Squall. Keep them open."

"..Tired…."

He'd lost too much blood for him to get to the infirmity on time. And he would have to undo his junctions when in Garden's walls, wouldn't he? He dug around in his coat pockets, praying, whispering a thank you when his fingers closed around a small bottle. A potion, but it'd do. He uncorked it; gently turning over Squall's other arm, breath leaving in a slow hiss when he'd saw what'd Squall done.

"Oh.. Squall…"

The biggest line went straight down his inner arm, deep and jagged. Next to it and crossing over it were smaller lines, some looked more he'd hacked at his skin, some were of graceful, straight lines.

"Why?"

He didn't expect an answer, though he asked as he poured a bit of the potion onto his arm, waiting a moment before pinching the flesh together and pouring again. 

"…Control."

With that one word answer, Irvine understood. Squall, whom he'd always, admired for being a sullen bastard in the face of everything, who showed not an ounce of emotion when Rinoa left…

Did this to control the pain. The pain that others inflicted upon inwardly, he did so outwardly. As a release, Irvine understood, because he'd gone through the very same thing. 

"You coulda come to one of us, Squall - to talk. Not try to kill yourself. We care about you."

With each word and each shallow breath Squall took, Irvine felt his heart shatter more and more.

**_ I love you. I just never got the chance to tell you and now. I don't think I shall. Damnit, why… Squall. WHY?_**

"Everyone… Leaves…"

He struggled to keep his eyes open, trying to focus again on that bewitching purple-blue. And he was shocked to see tears there.

"We wouldn't…"

"She did."

Irvine wanted to slam him against the wall for being so damn stubborn yet willing to just throw it away.

"I won't."

Something in Irvine's voice caught him, when Squall was ready to walk off the edge. He felt his arm being lifted; something warm pressed against his skin, moving upwards. Irvine.. Was … Taking his blood…

"No…"

Squall had to protest - it wasn't right. He was… He was something Irvine wasn't and he shouldn't… 

"You're a part of me now, Squall. You can't leave and neither will I."

Squall's lips opened, as though he wanted to say something and Irvine took that moment to make him drink the rest of the potion. His bleeding had slowed, but he didn't know how close Squall was to leaving him. He'd have to raid Squall's stash of mega potions after he was sure he was stable. 

Silence reigned as Squall's breathing evened slightly, Irvine using the edge of his vest to wipe off the rest of the half dried blood, needing to make sure that the wounds were closed. He could see the faint lines of past scars, a lifetime of meaning in them.

After watching Irvine trace one gently, Squall finally voiced a question.

"Why?"

"I'll tell you sometime, but not right now."

Irvine's smile was only half forced, as he pulled Squall against him, carefully lifting him a bit as he arranged them both to his liking.

"I know you're tired, so rest. I'll be here when you wake up, I promise. Ok?" Squall nodded, eyes closing as he nuzzled into Irvine's embrace a bit, the cowboy beginning to rock back and forth. It brought back a memory, of two boys in bed after a nasty rain pour. Squall had been crying for Sis and Irvine had crept into his bed, offering him a small hug of comfort. Squall had latched onto him and cried into his shoulder, Irvine patting his back like Matron did. It was the same now, but the childhood love had become something more. If he'd been any later… Squall would have… 

This time, it was Squall's hair to catch his tears it took all of Irvine's training not to jump when a small circle was traced over his back, Squall murmuring something too low for him to catch. 

_Reflecting the light  
Protect the ones who hold you  
Cradling your inner child  
It's serenity  
In a place where I can hide  
I need serenity  
Nothing changes, days go by_

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Disclaimers: Lyrics within are from Godsmack's 'Serenity' and NiN 'Hurt', Characters belong to Squaresoft.   
Notes: I wrote this within a space of four days. This is pretty raw, except for a quick once over by a sharp eyed friend (so I think) - thanks K! And spellcheck. If you spot any errors, please feel free to tell me. That's the only editing I'm going to do it though, since this was a sort of therapy for me. 


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